Selfish
by smokingace
Summary: Out on a walk, Allen finds himself allowing and rather liking something he would have rejected from anyone else.


**Title: **Selfish

**Author:** su-dama/tempusfugit3

**Pairing:** Lavi/Allen

**Genre:** boylove

**Rating:** R

**Author's Note:** I just had the idea of Lavi/Allen hit me in the face (because I find their relationship oddly fated). Obviously, if you were to go by the manga, this would take place before that infamous scene between you-know-who and Allen in Ch. 110. And no, I don't mean Voldemort.

**Disclaimer:** I disclaim a lot, don't I?

_**Selfish**_

And it starts.

"I think I'm being selfish," Allen pipes during the walk they are sharing, once again. It's always better with him, that auburn-headed fellow. Allen has tried Lenalee, and quite remarkably Kanda, and even Miranda. But Lavi tends to win when concerning companionship.

He's always had something nice to say, covered up by that dopey _this is that and that is this_ drabble. Lavi forces Allen to feel something that no one else has ever pulled from his gut. Something like bold familiarity, as if trained. Lavi _takes the stranger and makes it work_, ever since the beginning. In the beginning, it was the provocative smile of the lips that exalted Allen within the hospital room walls. In the present, the provocation lingers like a scent.

Aside from that, nothing can beat the warmth of springtime—"_It holds a good_ _promise_…"—and here, now, Allen reveals something that he wouldn't have otherwise.

_Forgive me_.

"Why? You seem very abnormal to me. You don't even complain. Who does that?" Lavi answers, predictably cheerful on his part.

Allen squints at Lavi from the side, trying to avoid the sudden sun that is screaming into his face. It's like hot breath. "Abnormal?"

"Because you _aren't_ selfish, or hardly anyway."

_I'm selfish. I just don't talk about it._

"I'm selfish because…I think about all the horrors and kinds of death out there, what I need to stop, and I just want to…"

"…" Lavi continues walking, and that is why Allen had chosen him.

"I want to die…Lavi."

And Lavi still continues, his boots hitting the cobblestones in perfect harmony. Grey eyes nearly expect Lavi to falter, to put a hand to Allen's chest and say, "What in _Akuma_ hell are you trying to say, Yuu's bean-sprout?" But he doesn't. His brother in arms keeps going, heading toward whatever destination he makes up, and only takes a quick glance at the boy. Maybe to summon up the courage for this silent expectation that Allen blinks at him.

Instead, after this questionable glance, Lavi clears his throat and says in a deft tone, "You say that, but when the time comes, you will run away."

Allen does a double-take at Lavi's red scarf, then chin, then face, absorbing all the greenery possible. That eye is fresh vegetation, sprouting in the world.

"I would probably be too weak to do anything, knowing me..." Allen fishes for something.

"I highly doubt it. Knowing you, Allen? I know your will."

Allen is curious. He reaches to cover his left eye with his demon hand in automatic possessiveness, as if reaching to protect his actual innocence, the kind that speaks of first love and heated flesh. The kind he knows nothing about but has heard of its intensity. He has merely protected women and wonders about the rest. Feeling the Noah girl against his chest…is the feeling he gets now. A pressure on his uniformed pectorals.

He asks, "Is it _that _strong?"

"Oh yeah. Believe me. You can't see yourself, so you don't know."

"Then…" The boy is overly interested now, and he wants to know how others perceive him. He wants to now possess that insight. "Tell me?"

Lavi breathes out, possibly in calm frustration, but he relents anyway in a happy-go-lucky beat. "You're determined beyond whatever I can think of because of your losses. You've counted your losses, and of course, why would you, somebody so sane and _with _the world, back down from that? You probably think you're sweet, but you've got fire that burns." He makes a face that suggests he wants to add further commentary.

Allen chokes on this and flushes; maybe it's a mistake to ask for such intimate insight. He's just a boy; he doesn't know what "intimate" _means_. Allen cannot even begin to understand the depth of it. Half of his mind is trying to persuade him to give up. He cannot and will not _ever_. He's convinced himself that nothing else matters in contrast to saving humanity, to risking his life in this war. Some force has to win eventually.

Hevlaska's prophecy gnaws at his mind.

"Does it hurt?" Allen asks pleasantly, but inside, his heart is truly in harm's way.

"Yeah, when we're at the end of it."

"Do you mean…I've hurt you? I'm sorry, I—"

"Nyaw, not really. But see? How can you be selfish? You just proved yourself wrong."

Allen's eyes widen under the shade that protects them again, and he feels as if he cannot walk. It doesn't hurt so much, so why does his heart pound so traumatically?

It's interfering with his audio. He keeps his hand over his eye, willing it to disappear.

"And you're still not complaining. Jeez."

"Huh?"

Lavi sighs and finally stops to stand akimbo. His eye is closed and aimed at the ground. There's a grimace. "First of all, Allen, when you say you want to die, you have to mean it… Second? If you say that again, I might just believe you."

Allen has stopped and planted his boots firmly over the stones, backside to the road, his focus on someone he has trusted.

He soon enough believes Lavi. He eyes the hammer that waits patiently in Lavi's fist. It says so much. It's alive, but dormant.

"I said it only because it's been on my mind for so long."

"_Heheh_! Don't be so sad. Be a merry sprite and appreciate life." Lavi chuckles to himself and takes hold of Allen's shoulder. They peer at each other. Lavi shares a wavelength with the fifteen-year-old; it's as warm as the sun, cold as the ocean. It speaks like the hammer.

_Forgive me... Is this like with Lenalee? She's said…_

For something mightily trivial, it hurts like _sin_.

"But say it again, Allen…?"

The darkness in the fifteen-year-old understands the implication. If he says it again, Lavi will hammer him into the ground.

Allen has come to realize that his brother, his friend, his comrade, would prefer it that Allen stay alive. Especially when this young mind keeps thinking so darkly, growing perturbed akin to the restless, Lavi wants Allen to succeed against it. _Claw_ it to death.

It's sad how he lets these things get to him, anyway. It's a war-torn country inside his head, poisoned by what he's come across and will meet in the near future. So, this is fate?

"I...won't say it again, if it hurts you." Allen bites down on his words, feeling that ache in his throat that's usually associated with self-pity. But he isn't complaining.

Lavi merely looks at him, maybe trying to seer holes into Allen's Black Order uniform. The few people around them have drizzled away and been replaced by spots of sun and shade, a tiny breeze sifting Allen's fringe. If he could, he would sleep in the air. He keeps his mind from thinking about death while standing. The scenario is hard to fathom.

The eighteen-year-old's hand drops from the shoulder, of which Allen had not remembered was still there. It's not there at the moment, and he finds himself wanting it back.

He knows he's selfish, like all other humans. He cannot escape being a human, and he's far from wanting to. Being mistaken for a demon more than once has marred his esteem some.

"You can think about it all you want, but it doesn't mean you'll get it. _Eh_...not now, anyway."

Allen catches his breath, slighted by the way Lavi's statement happens to respond well to the boy's desire. It's a coincidence. Just a coincidence.

Lavi chuckles again, saying, "_Hah_, stop with that face. You're going to make me worry."

Allen had not known that his hand had fallen from his eye, or that his lids had drooped, or even that his facial tone had expressed any sort of pain.

It's like this with Lavi: Time flows without restraint. It leaves Allen behind. His Innocence almost orders him to grasp it.

Maybe that's what Lavi means. "I said stop that," his companion huffs, building up an annoyance. "Allen...I'm serious" comes when Allen does not make a move to correct the solemnity. He cannot help the unease that grips him by the neck. It's so hard to turn away from him.

"Lavi..."

"Are you going to stop with that?"

"Yes..." And Allen hangs his head in woe, its pangs stabbing him. He needs a corner. Somewhere to hide and sulk. He's feeling too much sadness to be sulking front and center.

He's letting his emotions control him, and he knows this will sooner or later anger the other. Lavi may be an inspiring walking partner, but he's just not immune to emotion either. Allen will begin to anger himself if he cannot forget his feelings. Just forgive and forget…

"You don't mean it."

"I do."

"...Damn it, you don't." The older exorcist is so sure.

The younger exorcist has trouble dealing with the sting coming from Lavi's mouth, lips...tongue. He briefly wonders, with a blush, if Lavi knows more than himself.

Obviously he does, if he's demanding some happiness out of the dark from Allen.

Lavi narrows his dark green eye on the fellow youth, perpetrating a commander of sadness and tossing it aside with one significant look. Within one shade of grey, Lavi is powerful and bewitching and just _wanted_. This scares Allen, this need for protection from a fellow human being. But it feels different from all other protection. This doesn't span back to what Mana gave Allen. This doesn't entail the same rhyme or reason. Moreover, this touches—_nicks_—him like Krory's razor teeth.

How did it go from death to this secret need? Allen cannot answer.

"Cat got your tongue?" Lavi sighs, more welcome than ever after having approached Allen's body. "Do you need a refreshment of some kind?"

Allen maintains a quiet that he just cannot break; he's afraid that Lavi will leave him forever. This sentimentality will harsh itself out.

He's such a hopeless boy; it's a type of self-victimization that cannot be hoped to overcome. Probably helpless, too, considering something is refusing him from answering back.

"Wow, must have _swallowed_ your tongue. Don't mind me. Let's keep going." Those have to be hearts fluttering around that headband.

Finally a sign flashes in his face and Allen witnesses Lavi taking hold of his human hand. There's a haunting grasp around his hand, and he doesn't know what to do next. He hadn't known, so it doesn't help that nothing else comes to him. He's being pulled to the left, then forward as they walk over the distance, parallel to the road, a building to the right. The air whispers that it's merry; something must be done to be _merry_.

Allen is merry for a second before he blurts out, "I don't want to die."

Lavi sings, "_That's the spirit_."

_I like you. You forgive me. That's probably why I like you. _

Then all too jauntily: "You haven't kissed a girl, have you?"

Allen coughs and reddens, still gripping Lavi's hand. "_Ehhh_"

"I know I'm right just by your reaction. _Heh! _You're so girly like that."

Lavi tugs Allen closer toward his side, walking at a fair and even pace. Thoughtful planning in that smirk.

"Cute, even."

"Lavi!"

The redhead doesn't grace him with a glance; Allen should take offense.

"_Like that_."

Allen is now at a loss. Again. A million times over. He doesn't take offense because it would be selfish.

_He's so...open. He's abnormal, too. I'm not the only one this way. He's abnormal, too!_

And…because he feels something else.

"Allen, enlighten me."

"About what?!"

"If you liked someone close to you, say Lenalee, then what? Would you kiss her before you die?"

Allen almost trips over his own two boots; he finds himself being pulled—or pushed—closer toward the older exorcist. It's a drive, _gravity_, which brings him to this need. It's more than gravity. His face is a couple of feet away. No. One foot. Half.

"Um—maybe. She has her own wishes, though, so I wouldn't—" _I wouldn't mind_…

"Exactly my point, my über friend. On the other hand, if someone wants to kiss _you _before they die, then what? Would you let them?"

Allen's heart wants to skip down the lane on its very vessels.

"I-I-I don't know. I guess I couldn't...stop them..." It's no use; Allen is too embarrassed to imagine such an instant, and he stills, forcing Lavi to halt at the mouth of an alleyway.

Allen tries avoiding Lavi's gaze. It's a sating hindrance.

"_Lessee_," Lavi hums, checking around him. "_Lesseeee_... C'mere, Al' boy."

He's offhandedly tugged into the aforementioned alley, pupils adjusting to the dimness, searching for light out of the darkness.

Apparently Allen is seeing coincidences due to the power of suggestion and nothing else.

But there _is_ something.

Lavi is suddenly serious and fuzzily direct and staring hopefully into Allen's face with that one forest green eye. The headband's around his neck, and the eye-patch sits like a black burn mark. Lonely. Or is it the seen eye that's lonely?

Allen stares back, nonplussed. He's not yet amused, and probably won't be.

"Wha-what exactly are you doing?" He's tempted to wince from being so eye to eye.

"Listen to me."

"…I am…"

"I know, but _listen_ to me… I want to kiss you."

Allen's mouth falls farther open; it will need a sling soon.

"What—why?" _That's…not true_.

"I do."

"You do? But _why_?" _I don't deserve this. Is this why I like him?_

"I just…_do_…" Lavi averts his eye for a second before tearing off his black patch. It shoots from his quick hand into the pile of rubbish nearby. Allen gazes into it, shocked by how normal it is, how fetching it is despite seemingly being never in use. It matches the other one to perfection, yet it intrigues Allen to the point of lost cause.

Very, very lost.

"Let me kiss you, Allen."

Allen has nothing to say; he doesn't breathe, shove, or bicker.

_Why is he…? Is this okay? I don't know if…it'll hurt. _

It is just a kiss, but it paves a road of gold that could excite even a Noah.

Lavi has been a beautiful person in his own right to him; Lavi _wants_ to protect him. Allen has allowed this protection. Nothing _bad_ can come out of this scenario, he believes. It can be bad, but it won't be _bad_.

This potential pushes Allen into Lavi's chest; and then Lavi is attacking his lips with swiftness, but no more than of a controlled nature. The initial touch is nervy, but a moment later it's _yummy scrumboes_ like Jerry's cuisines, and Lavi has barely made a dent in him.

Allen thinks that, morally, this is twisted. It has to be. But then he thinks that, realistically, this is an attraction that doesn't follow the code of religious conduct. What his heart has been telling him is that Lavi is Lavi, always and forever bouncy and vibrant and punky and _necessary_. _Necessary_ for his sanity during the days of war, and at least the company is fiendishly entertaining.

Or more like entertaining Allen's virginal lips. Lavi's pleased and he pleases, chuckling into Allen's mouth; but then resumes an irresistible silence that takes place over a couple who fight their instincts to _just_ _let_ _go_. Allen cannot deny his pleasantry either, yet he's still restraining himself from grabbing the other in a violent fashion.

The redhead is kissing him. Barely kissing the bottom lip, then moving on to accommodate the whole package in his mouth's grasp.

Allen doesn't know what to do; he's never been in this situation before the alleyway, he's never had to deal with another liking him so much that they had to _show_ him. His naïveté may be abashed by the matter, but it's not about to prevent him from allowing Lavi this much. He's stuck in his innocence, really, so there's no way out.

The woe had been replaced by a craving curiosity long ago, it seems, and Lavi takes advantage of Allen's overcoming blindness in order to drag the boy into his arms, tighter and firmer.

"You're closing your eyes. Do you like it?" Lavi whispers, cradling the smaller boy against the scarf.

"_Hmm?_ _Mhm_…" Allen is rendered speechless. It's repetitive. He's never been so aware of another person, not like when it comes to killing. This awareness plays a certain tune inside his body, and he wants to hear this tune more than anything.

"_Heheh_. I'm…glad. I was hoping you wouldn't hate me, but…I had this feeling…"

Allen blinks amidst a lusty haze up at him. Lavi's green swims into focus, and he knows this haze is not due to tears this time. He feels captured, senseless…but in a good way, if it can be true. It has to be true. Can't be _love_, could it? It can't be _platonic_.

Lavi, the future Bookman, with that brain of obscured stories, slumps against a dumpster with Allen along his front. He sighs, Mister Satisfied, and Allen starts to wonder again. A slight bump pokes into his abdomen, but he thinks he already knows what it is. Maybe Lavi likes him _more_ than he thought previously. He's fooling himself because he's not satisfied either. But…

"Lavi…I feel better," Allen finally admits, and the other answers with the same. There is more to it, because Lavi is snug as a bug between the dumpster and Allen's coat, and this innately leaves room for hormones to self-destruct in T-minus zero seconds. Allen has not been sure or experienced in order to ascertain what he's wanted, but Lavi makes the fallacy better with his hand on Allen's backside. These palms slide down hesitantly until they reach the small mounds; the grey-headed mess's heat is reeled into Lavi, even further, so that their organs don't dare try and breathe.

Allen can tell Lavi is relishing this intimacy, and this is probably what most people mean by it.

Two males equivocate to two people, only human, only lonely, only fierce. Basics.

Those eyes are closed now—what if they were opened?—and their mouths remain too far off for Allen's comfort. He'd feel warmer if Lavi kissed him again. He is familiar with this fresh discovery.

Lavi is cornered and weak, yet it is obvious he is aware of his surroundings. Very aware, for what can explain the growth down below. Both try to ignore their own.

Allen is suddenly Lavi's pet, something or someone else that cannot be helped or saved. No rescue necessary.

"I'm glad… Stay like this for a minute."

"Yeah."

They remain this way for a short while, Allen clinging to the redhead like iron in blood, wanting to rust away before the war runs amok.

"Allen."

"Lavi."

"I think I can die now."

And Allen opens a heavy lid, being ready for this. "I don't know if you mean it."

"If I don't, you can kill me." Lavi looks down at Allen with equally heavy lids, reflecting an abrupt fatigue that can only result from this kind of courage. What Allen wants to say is _how_.

What he ends up saying is, "I think I can die now." Quite honest, a pixie smile rising on his lips.

"We're lucky we haven't died yet, then."

The conversation is too simple, too _bent_ for a time like this. It doesn't fit, it's too bland. To make up for it, Lavi kisses Allen's pentacle, brushing aside the grey strands and mapping out the left temple with his hand. Allen can feel him twitching slightly, as if Lavi is in some kind of pain. He has the urge to eat him alive and he doesn't resent himself for it. The other's _cute_ for handing him this emotion. Allen is a teenager at fifteen and who knows what _emotion_ can make him do? Good God.

Allen supposes it's the same for him, this gratefulness, gratuity that haunts him. He eyes the older, wanting to crumple into himself. A love note turning to ashes. The unforeseen power wracks his spine.

A brush against the lips. Is that Lenalee's tea he smells? Bitter but sweet entering his mouth?

_God...this is why…_

Did Lavi just say something naughty? Allen thinks his face is going to fall off, and then his trousers. Wait, should he back off? Should he fling his coat away?

_Wait_, isn't he a good boy? Allen is a good boy, Allen is a good boy, Allen is a—

Their fronts still grind of their own accords, making the two mushy without even realizing it. Sweating in places, giving off pheromones. Allen wants to touch himself; he wants to _grab_ Lavi. One takes a nip out of the other, oh a moan. Another when the smaller tries to hoist himself up. Lavi can most assuredly hear the boy making those grunts and incoherent replies and how he can never finish a proper sentence without gritting those teeth. This alley corner is getting white hot, about to implode on itself and sure, make it the whole damn town.

Their Order would _die_ if they saw this. Maybe Allen will grow up to be an exhibitionist. It's been in him all along, he just needed a push. That's it, that's very _it_.

The young one looks excitedly at Lavi, seeing the push of the two losing control and covering and biting his lip.

Why are they doing this again…?

_Oh my God!_

Not one person notices that they look as if they're molesting each other; one damn fine miracle that should serve them for eternity and a pension.

Allen had gotten ahead of himself before. He has learned a lot since the beginning of their walk.

_This_ is why he'd chosen Lavi.

He's completely selfish.


End file.
